The Smaedelyke broeders, not seeing him come back, said one to another:
The baes, seized with fear, cut open Ulenspiegel's hat with a knife. But instead of the carolus, he found nothing in it between the felt and the lining but worthless copper counters.
Raging then against the Smaedelyke broeders he said to them:
"Brothers of roguery, ye shall not stir out of here save leaving behind all your clothes except only your shirts."
And they had every man to strip off his clothes to pay his shot.
In this fashion they went in their shirts over hill and dale, for they would by no means sell their horse nor their cart.
And all that beheld them in so pitiable a plight, gave them freely bread to eat, beer, and sometimes meat; for everywhere they told the tale how they had been despoiled by robbers.
And among the lot they had but one pair of breeches.
And thus they came back to Sluys in their shirts, dancing in their cart and playing the rommel-pot.
Meanwhile Ulenspiegel bestrode the back of Jef through the lands and the marshes of the Duke of Lunebourg. The Flemings call this duke Water-Signorke because it is always damp in his country.
Jef obeyed Ulenspiegel like a dog, drank bruinbier, danced better than a Hungarian master of arts in posturing, pretended to be dead and lay down on his back at the least signal.
Ulenspiegel knew that the Duke of Lunebourg, annoyed and angry at Ulenspiegel's making a mock of him at Darmstadt before the landgrave of Hesse, had forbidden him to set foot on his territories on pain of the halter. Suddenly he saw His Ducal Highness in person, and as he knew it was a hasty and violent Highness, he was seized with fright. Speaking to his ass:
"Jef," said he, "here is Monseigneur of Lunebourg coming. I feel a sore itch of rope on my neck; but may it not be the hangman that will scratch me for it. Jef, I would gladly be scratched, but not hanged. Think that we are brothers in distress and long ears; think, too, what a good friend you would lose if you lost me."
And Ulenspiegel wiped his eyes, and Jef began to bray.
"We live together in mirth," said Ulenspiegel to him, "or in moan, according to circumstances; do you remember, Jef?..." The ass continued to bray, for he was hungry.
